


Everything is Never as it Seems

by SimpleSour



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on an Owl City Song, Fireflies by Owl City, Fireflies specifically, Gen, I made a mythos for this please, I promise, LITERALLY, Lowercase, Neglectful Philza, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Running Away, Slimecicle Cinematic Universe meets the Dream SMP, Slimecicle is a God, Slimecicle lore, Wilbur Soot is Not Okay, Wilbur Soot-centric, i wrote this for myself but, neglectza, real life minecraft, what happens when a slimecicle stan watches dream smp, wrote this listening to 2010s pop hits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28992588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimpleSour/pseuds/SimpleSour
Summary: Wilbur realized at a young age that he would never get the same fatherly love that was bestowed upon his younger brother, Technoblade. And so, with a gaping wound in his heart that would never heal, he gathered what few possessions he had and the little brother he raised on his own, Wilburran.He never thought for even a moment that maybe there was someone out there with the ability to heal those wounds.--Slimecicle is a god who adopts two angsty children. Thats it. (SCU + DSMP)
Relationships: Charlie Dalgleish | Slimecicle & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Charlie Dalgleish | Slimecicle & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 55
Kudos: 400





	1. voices echo off the cliffs up here

**Author's Note:**

> i come back from the dead and its to write this, not the 100 bnha fics i have on hiatus.
> 
> okay here me out, this is not as stupid and out there as it sounds. i am a tommyinnit fan, just like the rest of you. this was originally supposed to be about tommy getting helped after his exile by my favorite streamer (who just joined the SMP how awesome!!) and then my friend the wonderful [DumbestofAsses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DumbestofAsses/pseuds/DumbestofAsses) gave me an au idea and i WENT with it my guy. they were a huge help so go check them out. almost all the mythology and gods and shit was based off of slimecicle's Minecraft but every five minutes theres a disaster and The hardest minecraft difficulty.
> 
> and one more thing: i hate c!philza. all my homies hate c!philza

tommy was crying. they were running through the woods and tommy was crying. wilbur snapped a branch violently out of his way, only for it to thwack his little brother in the nose, making him cry harder. and louder. tommy’s sobs reverberated through the vibrant green of the jungle, usually lush and inviting, but in the quickly darkening evening, the shadows were elongated and the branches felt like the claws of an unforgiving monster ready to snatch the brothers apart.

wilbur’s hold on his brother’s upper arm tightened, and the boy cried out in pain, but wilbur didn’t loosen his hold. he couldn’t lose tommy. not like he lost dad- phil. like he lost phil.

“c’mon tommy,” wilbur said, trying to be soothing, but the reassurances sounded strained and panicked to his own ears. he didn’t even know if tommy could hear him over his choked sobs, trying to get in more air but unable to with how fast his brother dragged him along. wilbur felt tears form in his eyes as the sounds and footfalls echoing through the forest grew louder and the sun dipped below the horizon.

“w- wilby,” tommy choked out, digging his heels into the ground. “wilby i  _ can’t _ ,”

wilbur looked back at him, bewildered. “w- what do you mean tommy?” a hysterical little laugh bubbled out of his throat. “we have to- we have to keep running, you know, we have to-”

“i can’t run anymore, wilbur!” tommy shouted just as the last lights faded from sky and the two were left in darkness. the forest suddenly felt like an echo chamber, it was deathly quiet and his heartbeat should  _ not _ be that loud, should it? wilbur’s head snapped left and right, looking around for imaginary predators and feeling so much smaller than he ever had before. tears flowed freely now as he desperately locked eyes with his little brother, frowning petulantly and not moving as if a little pant is a sign of imminent stroke.

“what do you mean, tommy?” wilbur said, voice wobbling pathetically. tommy is the most stubborn person he knows, he can’t convince him to keep going like this! how did technoblade always do it, trying to intimidate them into eating all the vegetables on their plate? (and oh, how he missed having a large variety of good food three times a day, or, nether, a reliable amount of food). he stared, no emotion, hard and long, didn’t he? and said, low and firm- “we have to keep running, tommy.”

tommy’s emerald eyes blew wide, his chapped lips that have started bleeding at some point parted slightly, and he nodded wordlessly. wilbur nodded to himself, this was good. they needed to get out of here, this was good.

swallowing down the taste of bile rising in his throat, wilbur continued running with his little brother at his side, resuming their breakneck pace.

wilbur’s boots, once good and firm, were now worn from over a year of running and hiding. the soles were thinned and the toes had holes. like these boots, wilbur’s sanity and mental wellbeing had degraded and frayed at the edges even at the tender age of twelve. he didn’t know what he was going to do next at any given moment, and often times he felt like crying until he drowned himself, but he knew two things. one, he needed to keep tommy with him at all times. two, he needed to  _ survive _ . and while he appreciated tommy’s trying to contribute to the second one, whenever he snuck away to pickpocket some poor villager, he would get caught. he clearly had a talent for it, even at five he could steal the odd apple from a shop without getting found out. but he was always too greedy: he would take watches and bracelets off the wrists of passersby, and even if he had gotten away with it for the time being, he would dash away immediately, which alerted the victim just as fast.

they had been chased out of three villages in two weeks. tommy was a detriment to their survival. logically, to preserve his second goal he should cut away his first. but he would  _ not _ become phil and technoblade. he would not abandon tommy.

wilbur stumbled over another root, accidentally dragging his poor brother down with him with a terrified cry. luckily, tommy landed on top of wilbur, so he didn’t land with a sharp rock into his side, digging farther into his skin with the added pressure. but that was fine, because tommy was fine.

the silence of the forest suddenly became oppressive, the shadows and darkness pushing in, pushing in, in in  _ in _ . it was suffocating, wilbur was suffocating, he couldn’t get air, he couldn’t breath, he couldn’t  _ breath _ -

“wilby! wilby!” tommy yelled, and it was so loud, too loud, too much. why is tommy screaming in his ear? he needs help, he needs to catch his breath, he needs a breather, but they have to keep  _ moving _ -

“i know, i’m- i’m going tommy, just give me a moment, just one.” he took in a deep, strained breath that felt crushed underneath tommy’s miniscule weight. breathing was painful, but not breathing was worse, it was so much worse. “just one moment, please, just- one,”

“no, no, wilbur!” tommy continued, still much too loud. didn’t he get they were supposed to be hiding? they could be  _ killed _ if the villagers find them! they can’t trust anyone, why didn’t tommy get that by now? “don’t you hear it? listen!”

wilbur’s heart stilled in his chest. tommy heard something? oh, no, no, no. they- they couldn’t be found. they  _ couldn’t _ . “okay, okay, tommy, we’ll go. get up and we’ll-”

“yeah! i want to go see it, wilby! it sounds like music, c’mon!”

and with that, tommy sprang up and started jumping in place with excitement. tear tracks stain his face, and yet he looked as eager and cheerful as any five year old. sharp rocks dug into wilbur’s palms as he pushed himself up off the ground, slowly, painfully. even his intense desire to survive and the rush of adrenaline in his veins was not enough to quell the pain as they broke the skin and drew blood. wilbur bit his lip, struggling to his feet, tears flowing freely down his round, young face. he didn’t deserve this, why was this happening?

“it’s- there’s no  _ music _ , tommy,” wilbur said, trying to emulate his firm-techno voice from before, hoping to get tommy on the move again. “we’re at least a mile away from the village, the only people here are  _ us _ and  _ them _ . they wouldn’t- they wouldn’t play music,”

“no,  _ listen _ , wilby!” tommy insisted, closing his eyes and lifting his face to the sky. wilbur watched in amazement as he rocked on his heels, former plights forgotten, as he hummed a little tune atrociously off key. “yeah! yeah, hear it?”

“tommy we need to g-”

“no!” tommy yelled, eyes squeezed shut. his bottom lip wobbles. once. twice. “can’t you j- jus- just listen to me, for once? i’m trying to help, wilbur, i pr- promise,”

wilbur stared as tommy’s rocking started to look more like trembling. “okay,” he whispered, forcing his eyes closed when all his instincts screamed at him to  _ be on guard, be alert _ . “okay, tommy,”

he heard nothing except the early autumn leaves crunching under tommy’s worn sneakers as he swayed to music wilbur couldn’t hear, and his own labored breathing. the pain in his side was nearing unbearable, hot and stinging and painful. his lungs ached with the effort of simply keeping him alive, and it felt like even the birds and parrots had abandoned them. a cool gust of wind blows through the jungle, but for some reason it feels less cold and unforgiving and more… refreshing. it ruffles wilburs hair, and it feels nice. like he imagines technoblade felt whenever phil mussed up his hair.

wilbur’s heart ached but not in response to his physical condition. he somehow managed to sigh, even with how messed up his breathing had become, and that was when he heard it.

“ _ ‘cause they’d fill the open air, and leave teardrops everywhere- you’d think me rude, but i would just stand and stare. _ ” the voice was soft and comforting, like a warm embrace during a thunderstorm. there was a concentrated element to the voice, as if it was focusing very hard on something; it was less loose and free than the little lullabies wilbur would write on the fly around a campfire for tommy, but something about the focus felt heartwarming. as if (and wilbur knew this was not true, but he wanted to believe for just a second) the singer was trying their best to make something good for them. just for them….

“ _ i’d like to make myself believe _ ,” the voice continued, and wilbur heard tommy let out a breathless little giggle, and then, mingled with the next verse, the crunching of leaves. “ _ that planet earth, turns, slowly _ ,”

“ _ tommy _ ! no!” wilbur whisper-yelled, struggling to keep his volume low, as to not disturb the singer or the people who could still be following them, or the number of dangerous creatures wandering the jungle at night. he watched as tommy blond head darted around a tree, towards the music, and without thinking he dashed after him.

what was he thinking? he needed to stop indulging tommy: yes, he was right about there being music, but he couldn’t  _ run off towards it _ ! tommy, at five, just could  _ not _ understand the dangers of the world and the perils that came from being alive. phil was supposed to protect him from that, but he had left them to chase his own ambition. so now it was wilbur’s job, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to do it.

the singing came to an abrupt end when wilbur, just a few strides behind tommy, broke into a clearing. a small brooke cut through it, the rushing water just quiet enough for them not to have heard it before. tommy stood, staring at with wide eyes at something, but wilbur didn’t pay it any attention, just clamped his hand on tommy’s shoulders in a hold that was almost painful and brokered no argument. when tommy didn’t react, wilbur followed his gaze.

in the center of the stream there stood a large boulder, proudly jutting out of the water, unaffected by the current. and on that boulder sat a man. he was faced away from them, so wilbur could only see his back, hunched around an instrument- a guitar. the first thing that struck him about the man was that he was clean. of course, most of the villagers washed frequently, and tommy and wilbur did too whenever they got the chance, which was actually more than he had expected.

there was something almost uncanny, though, about the man’s cleanliness; there wasn’t a speck of dirt on him, and his hair was silky and well-taken care of. his clothes, too, were strange. he must have been sitting there for a while: nobody went out after the sun goes down to play a little ditty for themself on a rock. but the man wore lime green shorts that barely came to his knees, and a light, green, cloak that could not have done much against the steadily rising chill of autumn.

the man’s fingers were still over the guitar, and he had clearly noticed he wasn’t alone. wilbur opened his mouth to apologize, but the man beat him to it.

“sorry. didn’t see you there,” he chuckles, turning around, slowly, non threateningly. any words wilbur had been preparing died in his mouth when he met the mans eyes.

he had a kind face, with lips that seemed inclined to quirk up at the corner, a little bit. his teeth were white and his smile was indulgent and warm. his eyes, though, they were odd. the right was a vibrant green, discernible even through the dark clearing, and the left was a dark chestnut, with big, round, spectacles dangling carelessly at the edge of his nose. the scariest thing, though, was that  _ something _ about the way this stranger looked at him made wilbur want to forget his past, forget his logic, and fling himself into the man’s arms and let him hug his problems away.

with a sick feeling in his stomach, wilbur realized it was how philza used to make him feel.

“i like your song!” tommy blurted out, breaking the silence. he watched as his little brother’s face turned the shade of pink it always did when he did something embarrassing in front of technoblade. oh no. this was  _ not _ good. wilbur had to protect tommy- poor, naive, tommy- from the dangers of trusting people.

“yeah,” wilbur agreed, eyes darting around for a quick exit. “we didn’t mean to intrude, my little brother here just heard your singing and wanted to- to see it, you know? so, we’ll be- we’ll just be going, yeah? yeah,”

the man frowned. “okay.”

wilbur looked at him, bemused. “you’re- you’re not gonna try and stop us?”

“uh, nope,” the man replied, looking a little confused himself. “i think that’d be classified as  _ kidnapping _ , actually. if you want to go, be my guest,”

wilbur sent him one last confused look before steering tommy away, away from the clearing and away from the strange man who seemed to have no desire to tell them what to do, to control them.

“but,” he called, and wilbur flinched. there was always a  _ but _ , wasn’t there? how stupid he was to think they could just  _ leave _ , that any wolf would let a sheep wander past the fence unpunished. “you could stay, if you want. i mean, i won’t, like, make you or anything, but you two seem pretty beat. rest a while, weary travelers!”

what? 

“what?” wilbur asked the same time tommy exclaimed, “really?!”

the man nodded. “yeah. trying to learn this, uh, stringy thing, so i’ll prolly be doin’ that all night. plus, i don’t sleep! so i can watch over you two if you need,”

wilbur was immediately suspicious. “and what would you want in return?” he demanded, as much steel in his voice and flare as he could muster.

the man thought for a moment, looking between the two. he hummed. “how about…” wilbur braced himself. “your names,” he finished.

“and i’ll introduce myself for free, buy one get one free black friday sale, tonight only,” he laughed at his own joke. “i’m charlie,”

the man- charlie- watched them expectantly. tommy broke first. “well, i’m tommy, innit, this is my brother, wilby- wilbur!”

charlie half bowed with a little flourish of his cloak. “pleased to make your acquaintance, tommyinnit and wilby-wilbur!”

“it’s- no,” wilbur stuttered, heat rising to his face. “tommy and wilbur, just tommy and wilbur,”

“my point still stands,” charlie smiled. “and my offer, too. i was planning on practicing this shit-” for some reason, charlie looked panicked, which immediately set wilbur on edge. he whipped around, looking for danger, but charlie just continued, “thing, this  _ thing _ . not sh- okay. i can not play tonight, if you want to just sleep,”

wilbur stared, utterly bewildered by the strange adult in front of them who seemed to have an aversion to curse words.

tommy, however, just giggled delightedly. he squirmed out of wilbur’s hold immediately, ignoring his panicked, “ _ tommy! _ ” in favor of dropping himself down at the edge of the brooke and looking up at charlie like he was the most amazing thing he had ever seen (the same way he used to look at technoblade, the same way he still looked at wilbur). this should have reassured wilbur. it did not. tommy was a  _ terrible _ judge of character.

wilbur, who considered himself a great judge of character (he judged everyone as  _ evil _ and  _ imminent threat _ ), knew charlie was going to try something. nobody proposed a trade that was stacked against them. no one would put their life on hold to watch over two kids for just their names. names were unimportant. unless-

wilbur gasped. “you’re a fae!” he accused, darting forward and pulling tommy away by the scruff of his neck. “you asked for us to give you our names and- and tommy you gave them to him!”

charlie, for his part, looked incredibly taken aback. “a- a fae?”

“yes! a fae!” wilbur’s grip on his brother tightened considerably, as if that could protect him against the power of a fair folk who was given his name. that was the  _ first thing _ philza ever taught him, not to give his name to someone who asked for it, to respond “ _ no, you can’t have it, but my name is _ ” and he  _ fucked _ it up, too enthralled in a siren song and a sliver of hope for someone to take care of him.

“i’m… not a fae,” charlie said. then his eyes widened in realization. “yeah! i’m not a fae! faeries can’t lie, so by telling you i’m not one i can’t possibly be one!”

he was right. fair folk, seelie or unseelie, were physically unable to lie. so what was his play? why did he want to watch over them while they slept? “so what do you want then?” wilbur demanded, feeling incredibly bold, even as his hands leaked blood and his side twinged in pain after every breath, even with his face stained with tears and dirt and desperation. “what do you want from us?”

charlie’s mouth worked soundlessly, as if wilbur was posing a question so strange and whose answer was so obvious he didn’t even know how to respond. “why- why would i want anything from you? what could you give me, anyways? you two don’t have anything i want, so why not just do something nice?”

wilbur stared at him.  _ this was a ploy _ , he told himself, ignoring the growing part of him that wanted to stop caring and lay down and let charlie watch over him so he could  _ rest _ .  _ charlie could not be trusted. no one could. _

charlie to his credit, seemed, at some point, to realize this. “okay, how can i get you to believe me? um- i can do a handstand! that’s trustworthy, right? no? no. i could sing another song, if you want or- well- i could-” charlie groaned loudly in frustration, tugging at the ends of his hair as wilbur continued to watch. after a moment of conflict, he jumped off the boulder and onto firm land. he took a step towards them, but wilbur immediately matched it by pulling tommy with him back. charlie held up his hands in surrender, and spoke in a quiet, soothing voice, “alright, i’ll tell you two something, but you  _ have _ to keep it a secret, okay? can you do that?”

tommy nodded immediately, and wilbur followed reluctantly despite himself, after a searching gaze from charlie told him he wouldn’t be able to learn it and not agree to keep it secret.

“alright. i’m not charlie. okay, i am, actually, but most people know me as slimecicle,”

tommy gasped loudly, but wilbur didn’t move, and gave no outward reaction. he glanced to the sky, waiting for the  _ real _ god of nature to strike down the imposter where he stood. but after a few moments passed, he looked back at charlie quizzically.

charlie just smiled softly, hands still held in front of him, and takes a few steps towards them. wilbur, too shocked to move, lets him, and the man- the god?- carefully take his hands off his brother’s shoulders, and he watched in awe as the skin knit itself back together before his eyes. there was no buzz, no burning head pain that came with a healing potion. this was pure, inconsequential, godly  _ magic _ .

wilbur sucked in a shaky breath. “you’re really,  _ really _ slimecicle?”

charlie- slimecicle, the  _ god _ \- nodded. “you’re tired, kid. its not too comfortable out here, but i’ll keep you safe. don’t worry.”

wilbur, suddenly exhausted and dazed, nodded and sat himself and tommy down on the hard ground that seemed to soften immensely after he settled, the lush green cushioning him in just the right places, almost like a bed. he had no doubt this was the natural magic of the god a foot away from the boys.

but even with the soft greenery, wilbur winced as his left side touched the ground. slimecicle was by his side in a second, and wilbur, a good child with at least some dignity left, pulled away. but the god just frowned, and carefully pulled the tiny boy towards him, making reassuring noises as he did. 

despite himself, wilbur relaxed into the hold, and felt a giant weight lifted as the pain faded immediately, along with his presence of mind. he felt consciousness slip away from him, and the last thing he saw before he fell asleep was slimecicle removing his cloak and laying it over him and his baby brother.


	2. bonding ensues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> man tries to write children povs, more at 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! thanks for the frankly OVERWHELMING positive response on my first chapter. it really pushed me to keep going so thank you so much. im making a schedule that i will try to stick to (this has never failed for me in the past, of course).
> 
> so every monday around 10 pm est i'll post a chapter around 3k words. if i miss a week then i'll try and make the next week double that.
> 
> another thing: when i say Other Additional Tags To Be Added, i mean that. trying to keep this kinda canon compliant actually (even tho i barely know what those words mean) so a lot of character and relationship (all platonic) tags to be added. (fair warning im planning on referencing some dark things later on and i will of course tag and warn for that extensively when it comes up. thanks)

as wilbur came to, he squeezed his eyes shut instinctively against the burning light of… the sun? he groaned quietly, and flung an arm over his eyes. or, he tried to, but something was stopping his arm from lifting. he was alert in an instant. unbridled panic coursed through his veins as he fought against whatever was restricting his arms.

wilbur cried out, thrashing against the restraints, forgetting to even open his eyes in the panic. in an instant he felt something else press onto him, holding him down, holding him down, he needed to fight, to escape, what was that noise, it was growing louder, it was so  _ loud _ -

wait. what  _ was _ that noise?

wilbur froze out of pure confusion. the restraints around him tightened minutely, but then loosened shortly after. the noise was less loud and more very close, but it was high pitched and frantic, like a panicked fly buzzing around his head. but it wasn’t buzzing… wilbur’s brow furrowed. someone was humming.

wilbur remembered himself and cracked his eyes open, to see that he wasn’t being held down, he was being  _ held _ . he was being cradled by arms much bigger than his, as whoever was doing this hummed a semi-familiar tune frantically, as if getting it out as fast as possible would solve something important.

wilbur finally looked down at his restraints. but it wasn’t a restraint; it was a bright green traveling cloak tucked in around his sides tightly, as well as around a tiny child curled up in a ball and tightly clutching the green fabric. tommy.

all the events from yesterday came rushing back to wilbur. tommy’s failed pickpocketing scheme, them being run out of town, the singing, coming to the clearing and meeting a god, and that same god tucking them in like- like-  _ something _ . if wilbur knew what being tucked in at night felt like, he wouldn’t have run away from home, would he?

“s… slimecicle?” wilbur asked hesitantly, his voice hoarse from sleep. tentatively, he tilted his head to meet the gods eyes. slimecicle stopped humming, and replaced it with a weird hyperventilating sound that sounded almost like laughter.

the god met his eyes from upside down, and tried a shaky smile. “hey there, wilbur. had me scared for a minute there, not, uh, not gonna lie,”

wilbur felt his face heat up. he had just freaked out in front of a god over a  _ blanket _ . “oh. sorry,”

slimecicle shook his head. “nah, nah, it’s all good kiddo.” he glanced around the clearing. “you, uh, you hungry?”

wilbur was  _ starving _ , now that he mentioned it. but… slimecicle had just spent  _ hours _ , judging by the height of sun in the sky, watching over them for nothing in return. he had heard of hospitality, and he guessed it made sense for one of the six most powerful gods to possess it, but he couldn’t just take  _ everything _ he wanted from him, could he?

wilbur bit his lip. it wouldn’t be too hard for slimecicle to get him food, would it? and he always said it was survival over everything else. surely _ everything else  _ encompassed basic courtesy, right?

he nodded, mind made up. he would get everything he could from slimecicle to help tommy and him get back on their feet, granted it wasn’t something he would have to pay for, and then they would leave. off to another village, rinse and repeat (probably without the god, next time).

“i gotchu, kiddo,” slimecicle acquiesced, cautiously extracting himself from the embrace. wilbur gave himself two seconds to breath before he pulled himself out of the cloak’s embrace and jumped up after him.

he followed the god, who looked ridiculous wearing shorts and a simple brown tunic without the cloak, when wilbur was starting to get goosebumps from the chill. but gods don’t get cold, do they?

wilbur watched in half-fascination, half-bemusement as slimecicle crouched down to a particularly small, yellow flower. he used two fingers to cradle it gently, and leaned down and positioned his face next to it. the god breathed out softly, and wilbur swore the clearing grew warmer as the flower’s stem stood ramrod straight at attention. before his eyes, the flower grew and the petals fell to the ground until they were replaced by a single, deliciously red strawberry.

slimecicle plucked it off the stem and sent wilbur a blinding smile. “neat trick, huh?” he didn’t seem the list bit perturbed when wilbur didn’t respond. he strode over to him, one hand a comforting weight on his shoulder, and held out the berry. “i hope you have a  _ berry _ nice day,”

that managed to startle a laugh out of wilbur, and suddenly he could move again. he grabbed the strawberry and scarfed it down, ignoring the red stain on his fingers.

slimecicle smiled triumphantly. “you like puns, huh? about time. they all mocked me, but now i have found a small mortal child who thinks i’m funny! it was all worth it,”

“ew, no, puns are gross!” wilbur giggled (and, wow, when was the last time he honest-to-gods  _ giggled? _ ), making a playful shove at slimecicle, who let him. which was a terrible idea, really, because wilbur used the opportunity to wipe his juice-stained hand on slimecicle’s tunic.

“hey- oh- come  _ on _ !” slimecicle lamented, and wilbur froze. was he in trouble? “that wasn’t  _ berry _ nice of you, wilby-wilbur,”

wilbur relaxed again, realizing the god wasn’t angry and he wasn’t in trouble. he forced a laugh, but it felt a little strained even to his own ears. “it’s  _ wilbur _ .  _ wil-bur _ . no wilby.”

“aw, but what if i think wilby  _ will be _ a cuter name,”

“stop,” wilbur groaned. “puns aren’t funny!”

“you were the one who laughed at one, wilbur! you sealed your own fate!” slimecicle proclaimed, amusement dancing in his eyes, then made the same weird breathing noise as he had before. wilbur had never heard it anywhere else, and he doubted it was him laughing, so maybe it was something unique to the god? like a quirk. he knew technoblade had one, he said  _ blood for the blood god _ at any available moment when they still lived together. he wondered if his younger brother still did that.

wilbur looked back at the other younger brother. tommy was still clutching the cloak like a lifeline, but he seemed to be stirring. he wouldn’t be surprised if it was their loud conversation that woke him up.

“that kid sleeps like a  _ rock _ , by the way,” slimecicle mentioned, following his gaze. wilbur glanced back at him. slimecicle had a very strange expression on his face- wilbur wouldn’t even know what it  _ was _ if he hadn’t seen philza send it to technoblade everytime he did something noteworthy. the god of nature and nomads was looking at his sleeping brother  _ fondly _ . it made something in wilbur’s heart clench painfully. first technoblade, now tommy. was someone ever going to look at  _ him _ like that, or was he just unlovable? it was beginning to feel that way.

“i dropped my guitar into the river at some point last night,” slimecicle said, and wilbur blinks in confusion. he elaborated, “made one hel- nether,  _ nether _ of a ruckus, you almost woke up, but that kid took a train straight to snoozeville, first class,”

“why do you keep doing that?” wilbur questioned, looking quizzically at the god.

he frowned. “doing what? oh, no, are my bones on backwards again?”

“wha- no, i mean… censoring yourself. i’ve heard the word ‘hell’ before, you know,” wilbur explained, crossing his arms. it made him more authoritative, he knew that much. tommy listened to him more when he did it, which still wasn’t much. slimecicle lowered his hands from where he had started pressing on his clavicle, presumably to fix his backwards bones, and bit his lip.

“yeah, i guess you have. but it’s a policy of mine,”

“not cursing in front of kids?” he demanded, suddenly angry. he did not live in the wilderness for six months to be called a  _ kid _ . he lost that status the first time he went to bed hungry so tommy could eat  _ something _ that day. “i’m not a kid, i’m twelve years old!”

slimecicle placed a hand on wilbur’s shoulder again: wilbur guessed it made him feel better. wilbur would let him, just because it made him feel better, not because his hand was warm and made him feel like his body was thawing after being frozen for his whole life. “no, i have a policy of treating kids, like kids.”

wilbur searched the gods face for any signs of deceit, or maybe amusement from a joke, but there was none. in fact… he was looking at him strangely. even though wilbur had seen the look less than a few minutes prior, it took him almost an embarrassing length of time to realize what it was, solely because it was directed at him.

slimecicle had his hand on wilbur’s shoulder, and he was looking at him  _ fondly _ , just like philza would always look at technoblade. but wilbur didn’t do anything noteworthy. he all but demanded him to curse in front of him, and slimecicle was looking at wilbur like a father would a son.

wilbur felt tears well up in his eyes.  _ why? what did he do that was special? why was he special, special like technoblade, even though they were so different? _

“wilbur?” slimecicle asked, concerned, his other hand coming up to his shoulder. “are you okay? did i say something? tell me, i’ll fix i- oof!”

wilbur all but dived into slimecicle’s chest, tackling the god with so much force it surprised both of them. slimecicle stumbled back a step, instinctively gripping onto the boy to keep them both stable.

wilbur buried his face into slimecicle’s tunic. he should have felt embarrassed for showing so much weakness and emotion, hugging a stranger so tightly for an act of kindness and a nice look, but he couldn’t stop crying long enough to think about it. he didn’t think he wanted to, the warmth was spread throughout his entire body and soothing his aching heart like a balm to a burn.

hugging slimecicle felt like his heart was a tight bundle of knots, slowly being picked apart and loosened until it wasn’t painful for the first time in  _ years _ . he loved tommy, but there was a void that philza placed in his chest, that nothing could fill. but standing in the clearing in midday, engulfed by slimecicle’s arms and head filled with the string of reassurances he muttered into his ear, wilbur forgot about the hole, if only for a moment.

\--

tommy didn’t know many things with certainty. the things he didn’t know outweighed what he did, in fact. he didn’t know what his father looked like, he didn’t remember him at all, actually. but he knew wilbur. he knew wilbur was his brother, and that wilbur was always going to be by his side. wilbur was  _ never _ going to leave him.

another thing he knew (hey, that was two things! and since tommy can only count to ten, two is a lot!) was that charlie (slimecicle?) was a good guy. he was  _ definitely _ on their side. he had sang them a nice song, and he gave them his cloak to sleep with! plus, he was a god! tommy didn’t know much about the gods, to be fair, but he vaguely remembered a boy with pink hair happily screaming about blood gods. well, tommy didn’t know if he was happy, but he  _ was _ smiling. smiling meant happy. tommy was so smart.

speaking of gods and cloaks, tommy felt smaller than he had in years, engulfed in a sea of green. but not a bad type of small (he was still a big man), it almost felt… nice. like when wilbur hugged him, but fuller and from every side. warmth and contentedness radiated from tommy as he snuggled farther into the cloak. he felt comfortable. he yawned quietly, still half asleep. in between bouts of dozing and lucidity, tommy felt a comforting warmth pressed to his back be taken away. tommy briefly considered getting up, to see what happened to it, but he was back in the nice darkness before he could.

what could have been hours or seconds later, tommy blinked his eyes open. he immediately scrunched them up at the bright light, and started rubbing his eyes with a hand he snaked up between himself and the cloak. he looked around dimly. he was still in the clearing he fell asleep in, and it looked so much prettier in the annoying sunlight. the gentle trickle of water made him look to the stream they had found charlie-slimecicle (mega big name) in and tommy briefly panicked when he noticed he wasn’t there. where did he go? the boulder was still there, covered in moss, and tommy watched as a bumblebee bonked its head into the side, and he giggled. the bee hit itself onto the moss again, before making frustrated bee noises and finally buzzing off.

a hush fell over the clearing, and tommy realized that somebody was making noise, he just hadn’t realized it before. pulling the cloak with him, he sat up and scanned the wood with bleary eyes.

it didn’t take him long to find the source of the not-anymore noise. someone (it was impossible that it wasn’t charlie, he was so much taller and bigger) was rubbing circles into the back of a boy who seemed to be clutching onto him for dear life. hey, wait a minute! that was wilbur!

charlie met tommy’s eyes, and tommy immediately frowned. why was he crying? did something bad happen? did something bad happen to w _ ilbur _ ?

but then charlie whispered something into wilbur’s hair, and after a moment of hesitation his big brother nodded into his chest. tommy watched silently, mind still foggy with sleep, as wilbur extracted himself from the big man himself and bolted off into the forest without looking back.

tommy felt his heart drop out of chest. where did wilby go? why did he run away? his bottom lip wobbled. did he leave tommy like he told him dad left them? wasn’t wilby supposed to be by his side, always?

“oh, hey, hey, kiddo!” tommy blinked and suddenly charlie was crouched down in front of him, big adult hands wrapped around his own where they were scrunching up the cloak. “don’t, uh, don’t cry now kiddo, nothin- nothing bad happened, right?”

tommy shook his head furiously, tears spilling down his round cheeks. “w-wilby left me,” he sobbed. “why di- why’d he l-leave? he an’- an’ me, we’re suppose-d to be a t-team!”

suddenly he was engulfed in warmth again, his head pressed again brown fabric. it took a second for tommy to realize that charlie had hugged him. fingers carded through his hair and he leaned into the touch. “no, no, tommy! it’s fine, wilbur just went to go pick some berries! he knew you’d be hungry when you woke up, and, um, he is too, so that’s, that’s why he left,” he said in one breath. “he’ll be right back, don’t worry.”

“r-really?”

charlie pulled away from tommy, who wined at the loss of contact. he felt a tap on his shoulder. when he didn’t move a muscle, it tapped again. he knew charlie was trying to get him to look him in the eyes, but he stubbornly refused to, keeping his eyes trained on the ground.

“tommy?” he asked gently. tommy shook his head. the god let out a huff of laughter. “c’mon tommy, look at me in the eyes.” another stubborn head shake. he sighed sadly. “no? ah, that’s a shame… i guess you don’t want any candy...”

tommy’s head snapped up like a rubberband. he was met with charlie smiling mischievously, a look of triumph on his face. it took tommy a long moment of thought to realize that there was no candy. he shrieked, tackling the god with all his might. charlie just laughed, hands flitting around his shoulders to make sure he didn’t overbalance and fall. 

tommy just kept ramming his shoulder into charlie’s stomach, feeling more betrayed than he ever had in his life. “you jerk! you lied to me! you told me there would- agh! you dick ‘ead! you-”

“-woah, hey, hey, watch your mouth, gremlin-”

but that didn’t stop tommy from angrily reciting everything he had ever heard in an argument before. which was, unfortunately, only a few snippets of unrelated sentences. “oh, you bitch! bitch! charlie slimecicle, you- you’re- i know your kind, you’re all like- you’re- burgers-”

“i’m  _ what _ ?” charlie interrupted, voice pitched high and undignified. tommy felt a glimmer of satisfaction. “i’m- i’m  _ burgers _ ? tommy, have you ever like, read the bible?”

tommy pulled himself back to glare at charlie’s big dumb face. he nodded boldly. “oh yeah. loads of times. i’m a big smart man.” he paused. “wait, which one’s the bible?”

charlie let out an incredulous laugh. “good, good. you know, the god slimecicle, member of the council of gods, god of the harvest, he’s always sayin’ his signature catch phrase: _i’m_ _burgers_ ,”

that sounded right. “that sounds right,” tommy confirmed, nodding. “you’re burgers,”

charlie shook his head, raising a hand to try and hide a huge, blinding smile. “i’m- i’m burgers, yep,”

“yeah!” tommy roared, misgivings for the god completely discarded. “you’re burgers! an’ i’m a big strong man!”   


“and would that big strong man want something to eat?” came a soft, amused voice from the edge of the clearing. tommy perked up immediately, jumping to his feet to peer around charlie.

wilbur stood, hands holding up his shirt in a pouch no doubt laden with the berries he went to pick. his hair was incredibly messy, but that made sense, tommy thought. he looked like he had just woken up too. his eyes were red and puffy, which didn’t make much sense, but tommy’s stomach growled loudly and he ran over to wilbur without a second thought.

tommy squealed with delight as he stood on his tiptoes to peak at the contents of wilbur’s makeshift pouch, and then groaned loudly. 

“wilby! that’s just a bunch of sand! we can’t eat that!”

wilbur looked down at it, dismayed, then at charlie, who was shaking in silent hysterics. utterly confused and distraught, he said, “we  _ can’t _ ?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((dont worry abt how bad this chapter is dsjlkf i swear i editted this like 10 times i just could not make it feel right))
> 
> real quick, my thought process on the tommy reading the bible thing: in this slimecicle does not understand how human age works, like, at all. so he knows wilbur and tommy are children but he doesnt understand anything about what it really means. ill explain it in more depth later on but basically he knows that children (tho they're usually wilbur's age or older) read the minecraft bible, and assumes that since tommy = child then tommy has read it.
> 
> i just KNOW im going to get comments abt wilbur "going out to get milk", and i just want you all to know, i have THREE betas and every single one of them made that joke. go for it, i can take it.

**Author's Note:**

> heres some video links:
> 
> [Minecraft, but every 5 minutes there's a natural disaster](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_dp8iKlbaRs)  
> [The HARDEST Minecraft Difficulty](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7gRoLJjX55w)  
> [Slimecicle singing owl city fireflies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MyhScuFMdM8&t=97s) (im not crazy there was a reason he was singing that)
> 
> work title from fireflies by owl city, chapter title from [the woods](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XSxlKWe7hII) (sbi fansong) by creamay on youtube!
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated!!! <3


End file.
